It's All In The Hands
by littledollface
Summary: Hermione needs a little extra instruction in Potions class. One shot. Dub-con, light bondage, AU 7th Year with alive!Snape


"Miss Granger, will you kindly stop murdering the knotgrass root. You need to _gently_ remove the seeds or they'll be damaged, thus rendering them useless, much like Mr Longbottom over there."

Hermione sighed and glanced over at poor Neville, who was still struggling to get the bottle containing the knotgrass root open. "Yes, Professor." Shoring herself up for another go-round with the most impossibly evil root that ever existed, she grabbed a small knife and sliced down the middle, exactly as pictured in her book.

It was of no use. Bright green juice from the broken seeds flowed messily onto her desk. Frustrated, she murmured under her breath, "If anything is useless it's this blasted book."

"I heard that, Miss Granger," Snape noted with contempt.

Hermione blushed bright red. She wasn't one to talk back to professors— unless it was to correct them, of course.

"Come here," he called her over. "Perhaps what you need is a demonstration of how to do this simple task correctly." Patronizing venom poured from his words.

"Mr Malfoy, if you would," he said, gesturing to the knotgrass root. "Demonstrate for Miss Granger here the proper technique for extracting knotgrass seeds."

The evil smirk that spread across Malfoy's face was enough to make her sick but coupled with Snape's condescending attitude, she was sorely tempted to hex both of them. Still, knowledge came first. She really wanted to know how to retrieve the seeds. They were a crucial ingredient in forty-eight potions that she could recall on the spot and undoubtedly more she'd yet to learn. Malfoy seemed to know what he was doing, she thought, noting the surplus of seeds, enough for the whole class twice over, resting in a pile near his cauldron.

"I'll do this slowly. See if you can keep up," Malfoy said, grabbing his knife and an unopened root.

She rolled her eyes. "Just get on with it."

"First, you need to find the right spot." He examined the root closely. "There."

Hermione leaned in. "Where? What am I looking for exactly?"

"You don't see it? There's a faint line running the length of the root."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed as the line seemed to suddenly appear. How had that not been in the description? That book _was_ rubbish. "Is that where you cut?"

"Very good, Granger."

His voice grated on her nerves but she shrugged it off. Anything to learn how to do this right. "Brilliant. Give me the knife."

"No."

"Give me the blasted knife, Malfoy."

"Fine," he said, handing her the knife. "If you want to botch it up again, by all means, don't let me stop you."

She glared at him, placing the point of the knife on the faint line. Her hand shook slightly. She hesitated and sighed before giving in. "Okay, what is it that I'm missing," she said, surrendering the knotgrass root back to him.

"Good girl."

"Just shut up and tell me what to do."

"Hard to do both at the same time," he said, mocking her.

"_Show_ me, would you," she said, adding 'please' very reluctantly at the end.

He examined the root again, finding the crucial line. "You need to prepare the root to be cut open. It's still alive."

"Really?"

"Shhhh. Watch me," he instructed.

She leaned in closer, focusing on what his hands were doing. They were slowly stroking along the line. The root rested gently in his palm. She noted that he made sure not to put any pressure on the sides. As he stroked, the line became darker and darker. She gradually became hypnotized by the fluid motion of his fingertips. She'd never really noticed Malfoy's hands before. They were striking. With long fingers that weren't too thin and were perfectly shaped. His hands were muscular and sinewy. Strong. Hard. Watching the way he moved them, so sure and steady, she felt an odd tingling sensation in her belly as he commanded the root to open along the now black line. He deftly moved his hand to hold the root open with two fingers.

"Get the knife and carefully cut the membrane covering the seeds."

Her hands were unsteady but she managed to slice the thin membrane open without damaging the seeds nestled beneath.

"Good," he whispered into her ear as she slowly moved to retrieve the tiny green globes.

Once she'd carefully removed all of them, he closed the root and discarded it in a pile with the rest. She had eleven seeds, more than enough for the potion. Immediately, she wanted to get back to her cauldron, to finish her potion and make notes on how the properly de-seed knotgrass, but she also felt a pressing need to get away from Malfoy and it troubled her that she could stop glancing at his hands.

Shaking her head, she murmured thanks and sprinted back to her desk.

She had to get those damn hands off her mind. They were far too distracting for her liking.

She was beginning to dread Potions class. That alone was alarming enough, but the reason why she was dreading it was the real cause for concern. She just couldn't get Malfoy and his bloody hands out of her head. She just couldn't stop thinking of how they might feel against her skin. It was so silly. He was an arrogant git. Why did it have to be him? Couldn't she just have heart-racing fantasies about Ron's hands or his calves— or his ears for that matter. Anything but Malfoy. Anything. It was an annoying infatuation. Maybe, if she could manage to somehow avoid Malfoy completely, she'd be okay. And under no circumstances was she going to give into her fantasies. Then again, maybe it would be good if she did. Fantasy was always better than reality. Wasn't it? Yes, she'd built up what he could do with those long muscular fingers far beyond what was humanly possible. She shouldn't have allowed herself to indulge in such thoughts at all. Had she not convinced herself that she'd soon tire of the whole thing and permitted her imagination to run wild, she might not be in this predicament.

Maybe she could ask Harry to Obliviate her? It was a backup plan at least.

All of the dread and avoidance of Potions class had now made her late. She stumbled hurriedly in the classroom with mere seconds to spare. Grabbing the first available seat, she was too distracted to notice who she'd be sharing a cauldron with today. It didn't really matter anyway. She always ended up doing all of the work.

Settling in, she tossed her hair into a quick make-shift bun and dug her heavy Potions book out of her bag. She could finally breathe a sigh of relief and turn her attention to the professor and the day's assignment.

"Page seventy-two, Granger. Not twenty-seven."

Her heart stopped.

Malfoy.

Of course. Because her life could never be easy, could it?

She flipped to the correct page with a huff.

The next thirty minutes passed quickly. It wasn't nearly as torturous as she had imagined. They prepared the assigned potion in strained but productive silence. Hermione had done her best to avoid looking at Malfoy or his hands. And when she did, she pointed out all of the flaws. No, that scar on the back of his left hand, just below the knuckle of the ring finger was _not_ sexy. And the way he firmly held his wand as he stirred did _not_ make her knees weak. That was not the reason she needed to sit down for a moment and catch her breath. Nope, she was just fine. Just another Potions class with just another partner.

The potion complete, they sat there waiting for inspection by Professor Snape. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She could not stop fidgeting. Tapping her fingers, biting her quill and making sly glances over at Malfoy, she considered this unhealthy new obsession of hers. He was leaning back in his chair, the front legs off the ground. Very unsafe. She had the sudden urge to tip the bastard over. It would serve him right for tormenting her by nimbly twirling his wand in and out between those fingers.

He flopped his chair legs back to the ground with a thump. "Have to use the loo or something, Granger?"

Her eyes flew wide open and her cheeks turned scarlet. Drat, he'd noticed she was uncomfortable. "No. I'm just bored. Usually I'm partnered with someone I can have an intelligent conversation with." She didn't even care if she sounded rude.

He chuckled loudly. "In this class?" He nodded to where Ron and Harry were struggling to measure out the correct amount of armadillo bile. Ron was grabbing the vial from Harry, who was pleadingly pointing to the book's instructions that Ron insisted on dismissing.

"I can at least discuss Quidditch with them without being called names," she insisted.

"You like Quidditch?" Malfoy questioned skeptically.

"No," she said weakly.

He leaned his left elbow on the desk, turning and moving closer to her. "I haven't called you names in years."

She gave him an incredulous look. "'Years' might be stretching it a bit. Besides, just because you're not saying it, doesn't mean you're not thinking it."

He moved closer and reached out play idly with her quill. She watched his fingers dance across the soft feather.

"Don't presume to know what I'm thinking," he said. She was taken aback by the curt annoyance in his voice. She brushed it off. He was probably just irritated that she didn't buy his whole redemption act hook, line and sinker, like all those other witches he was always surrounded by. Dwelling on his _supposed_— and she used that word in the strongest sense possible— reputation didn't do much to ease the tingling sensation progressively swelling in her belly at the sight of his fingertips brushing along her quill.

Then it dawned on her. She was building this whole thing up in her head, making mountains out of nothing and letting her mind swirl with impossible fantasies. What she needed was a cold dose of reality.

She needed Malfoy to touch her.

That would solve everything. First, she doubted he would even to consent to such a thing, not wanting to sully himself by touching a _Mudblood_. She shivered. The harshness of that refusal alone would be enough to cool her off him for good. But what if he _did_ consent? He was a man. Men, when faced with such things, often let other parts do the thinking… no, it would still work. He'd touch her and his hands would be all clammy and gross. No better or different than any other wizard, giving her ample reason to stop this ridiculous obsession of hers.

Impulsively she turn to him and blurted out, "Hey, Malfoy. What you do if I asked you to...um...to touch me." Her was voice barely audible those last few words.

He looked confused for a split second before a sly grin appeared on his face. "What did you say?"

Panic. No. This was not a good plan. She backtracked, "Nothing. I... nothing."

He studied her for a few seconds and then leaned back in his chair again. Hermione was certain he was just going to drop the whole thing when he said, "You sure? Because I though you asked me if –"

"You're mistaken," she interrupted hastily, then buried her head in her book, feigning intense interest in Peltmoore's theories on increasing the potency of poppy seeds.

Minutes passed like hours and she wanted nothing more than this class to be over. She couldn't even look at Malfoy at this point for fear of what she'd almost let herself do.

"Where?" he asked out of nowhere, causing her heart to skip a beat. He _had_ heard her, the prat! She was more than slightly embarrassed now. Not that anyone would actually believe him if he chose to tell. That could work in her favor. What did she really have to lose? Nothing, she reasoned. She'd be rid of this unhealthy obsession and no one would be the wiser. She was going to do it, she decided. But where to have him touch her? What would have the most impact? What spot was intimate enough to replace her fantasy with reality but not too intimate as to make her feel violated?

"My...my knee."

He looked her in the eyes and then his gaze drifted to them hem of her skirt. She slowly lifted it higher, inviting him to do as she asked. He seemed hesitant. Good. Her theory was right. He was disgusted at the thought of touching a Muggleborn. She held her breath, trying not to let that upset her too much. It was just Malfoy, after all.

His hand moved off the desk and towards her exposed flesh. His fingertips lightly grazed the spot on her thigh right above her knee and she let out a low gasp. Warmth radiated from his palm as it hovered over her skin. His fingers moved ever so slightly, making tiny circles. Finally his entire hand made contact, pushing his fingers slowly under her skirt. She had said knee, not thigh, right? Her assumption that when fantasy became reality it would be highly disappointing was completely demolished. This felt better than she ever could have imagined. He seemed to like it too, she noted.

He'd moved even closer and bent his head down to hers. "Like this?"

She could barely get the words out. "Yes. Something like this."

"So, you don't want me to stop then?" he whispered teasingly into her ear.

Yes! Of course she wanted him to stop! She couldn't just let herself be felt up by Draco Malfoy in the middle of Potions class. Was she really thinking of letting him continuing? She wanted the answer to be 'no' but his hand felt like fire and ice combined on her skin and caused shivers to travel delightfully up her spine, making her insides scream for more.

"I want –" The loud snorting of Professor Snape interrupted her answer and she jumped off the seat and away from Malfoy faster than she thought possible.

The second the class was over, she bolted over to Harry and Ron leaving a few of her class notes behind. But she wasn't about to go back for them. Right now she had a blond git to avoid at all costs.

Steering clear of Malfoy was surprisingly easy. It wasn't as if they traveled in the same social circles. Whenever she had class with him, she made sure to get there early and always dragged Harry or Ron along with her. She told herself that technically she wasn't avoiding him because if she was, that meant there was a _reason_ for doing so and she was intent on denying the existence of said reason.

She considered the library a 'Malfoy free' zone, though. He was never there. He probably had minions to do his homework. Poor minions. She had an idea how that felt. She chuckled quietly to herself as she read over Ron's Transfiguration essay, making numerous corrections along the way.

"Hi, Hermione."

She looked up. "Shhh, Harry. Keep your voice down."

Harry looked around. "Why? No one is here."

Peering over his shoulder, she noted he was right. The library was empty. "You should keep your voice low out of respect and... and on principle."

"Yes, of course. Think of the scandal. Wouldn't want _Tubbard's Treatise on Trolls Volume One_ to hear me talking about how Volume Two's been sharing a shelf late at night with _Shelkin's Stories of Sea Nymphs and Gnomes_." For a second she thought he was serious, but then realized he was teasing her and broke out in giggles.

"I brought you some leftovers from dinner." He placed a small cloth napkin filled with a slice of mince pie in front of her. "You really should eat dinner _every_ night." She noticed his sarcasm didn't fully mask the concern in his voice.

"I know. I'm fine." He looked at her doubtfully. "I am, truly, Harry. I've just been studying, is all." She smiled warmly, trying to reassure him.

It seemed to work, for now. He kissed her on the cheek and told her not to stay too late.

A few seconds later, she heard a rapping on her desk. Looking up, she expected to see Harry but was faced with the one person she most dreaded.

"Malfoy," she gasped. "You scared me."

He brushed off her accusation. "Hiding out in the library as usual, Granger?"

"I'm not hiding out. I'm studying," she defended herself, gesturing to the open book in front of her.

He slid into the chair beside her. "You've been avoiding me."

"Yes, because we usually spend _so_ much time together," she scoffed, quickly schooling her guilty expression into what she hoped was polite disinterest.

"Don't play me for the fool, Granger."

"You're imagining things."

"I didn't imagine what happened the other day in Potions, now, did I?" he said, his voice both seductive and accusing at the same time.

"That was..." she cut herself off, not exactly sure how to explain what it was without completely embarrassing herself.

Her lack of answer seemed to anger him. "Was what? I saw you laughing it up with Potter and Weasley after class. Was it some kind of sick joke those two wankers thought up? You'll go along with anything they ask of you, isn't that right?" The seeds of truth in his accusation stunned her a bit. "We all know Potter's a poof. Probably had you make him some Polyjuice to fulfill whatever twisted and sick fantasies he has. I see the way he looks at me."

Arrogant git! She barely suppressed the urge to laugh because the notion was downright absurd. "Malfoy, you're barmy. Have you completely lost it? It wasn't anything like that. Harry doesn't even know it happened!"

Her reassurances did little to cool his glare. "I'd like to believe you. Truly, I would. The idea of touching Potter makes my skin crawl."

"I'm sure the feelings mutual," she interjected under her breath.

He got closer, leading her attention away from what he was about to do. "I just have to know for sure," he whispered and then nearly shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The wand she'd been holding loosely by her fingertips, just in case, went flying into Malfoy's hand.

He quickly grabbed both her wrists and pulled her to her feet. He muttered the next spell so quietly she couldn't quite make it out, but the result was the appearance of a thick braided rope that swiftly snaked around her wrists, tying her hands behind her back and to a wooden support column.

"Malfoy! Untie me at once! You can't do this." She struggled but it was no use. The rope held her firmly in place.

"In fact, I can." Peering over her shoulder, he checked his handiwork. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need the truth."

His words were far from reassuring. While she believed he wouldn't hurt her physically, whatever he did plan on doing was something that she obviously wouldn't have consented to of her own free will. Maybe she could bargain with him? "The truth? I'll tell you the truth. Whatever you want to know. Please. Just let me go," she pleaded.

"You _are_ going to tell me the truth," he said, pulling a small vial from his pocket. "But I'm not letting you go until _after_ you answer my question."

Her eyes grew wide. "What is that?"

He floated the vial across her line of vision. "This is Veritaserum."

She gasped but once she regained her bearings she noticed that there was nothing in the vial. "You're bluffing. It's empty."

"Very nearly. Just one drop left. But that's all I need. You know that, don't you?"

He was right. It didn't take much. Veritaserum was very effective even in smallest amounts. "Where did you get it?" she asked, letting her curiosity win over her fear for a moment.

"I pinched it from Snape. The glass has a crack at the top. It's been repaired too many times. Spells are no longer effective. He was going to toss it anyway." He brought the vial close and she could feel the heat of his breath against the sensitive skin of her lips.

"Open wide, Granger."

She turned her head away slightly but kept her eyes focused on his. He just wanted her to answer a question. She could handle that. Answer him and get out of here. She could think of a way to make him suffer in retaliation later, right now she needed to escape. It seemed the only way that was going to happen was if she complied with his demands.

"If I do this, you'll let me go?"

He grinned. "Take it and I'll untie you. Promise."

"Even if you don't like my answer?"

He contemplated for a minute then answered, "Yes."

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth a little.

"More," he commanded in a whisper.

She complied and he slipped his hand into her hair. Grasping the base of her skull, bit by bit he pulled her head back. Then lightly rubbing his fingers over her bottom lip, he coaxed her mouth open even further. "That's it," he murmured in her ear. She felt the cool glass, then a tingling sensation as a tiny drop of liquid hit her tongue.

He seemed to be in a hurry. Maybe he was unsure of how long the effects of the potion would last? She hoped it would wear off quickly. Perhaps there was a way to delay things.

No such luck.

"Why did you ask me if I would touch you in Potions last Tuesday?" he wasted no time in asking.

She felt the truth bubbling up and slipping out between her lips, "I wanted to know how it would feel."

The answer seemed to hit him off guard and he pressed for more. "How what would feel?"

"You. Your hands. On my skin. Everywhere on my body. I just wanted to know if it would feel as good as I had imagined it would." Heat rose on her face and she could feel her chest moving more rapidly as her breathing became shallower.

He smirked. "So you have fantasies about me?"

"Yes." She turned her head away, attempting to calm her fraying nerves. "Please let me go now. I've answered your question." He was obviously enjoying every second of her interrogation. It was as if she'd given him her soul and he was going to destroy her with it.

"No. Not yet."

"You promised!"

"I will. I just need to make sure you're telling the truth. Veritaserum isn't infallible, as you know. We'll call it a test. You like tests, don't you, Granger?"

The sting of tears burned her eyes but she held them off. "Test! But I've told you everything!"

"Shhh. It's almost over," he whispered soothingly against her cheek as he pulled her shirt free from the waist of her skirt, giving him access to the skin beneath. She gasped when his fingers pressed into the flesh of her waist just above her hips. His hands traveled higher and higher, his thumbs trailing small circles along the way. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes," she moaned without thought. She didn't even know if the Veritaserum was still working or not. This _was_ what she wanted. Without question. He stilled just below her breasts, his thumbs continued their maddening assault on her skin. Part of her wanted him to go further. Touch her everywhere. Do everything she'd ever imagined. Take her right here and now in the middle of the deserted library. He surprised her, placing a fervent kiss on her neck. She whimpered loudly. His lips seared her skin in the most dizzying way as he gently sucked and nipped at her flesh. She was about to drift away completely when the reality of _who_ and _what_ slammed into her. "Stop," she said with newfound clarity.

And he did.

She was stunned and under the surface, maybe just a little bit disappointed. The magical rope disappeared with a soft pop and she was once again free.

Breaking the uncomfortable silence, he said quietly, "I stopped."

"Barely." She was a bit angry. He'd had no right to do that.

"Right. Go on then. Tell Potter and Weasley all about what big, bad Malfoy did to you."

"You leave them out of this." The last thing she wanted was Harry and Ron knowing any of this. It was too personal. "I can fight my own battles."

"So you're not going to tell them?"

"No." She shook her head. "It's none of their business."

He smirked. "That's good to know, Granger," he whispered into her ear. His lips lingered for a moment against the shell of her ear, before he went striding to the library exit.

Catching her breath, she slumped down into her chair with a sigh. She caressed her neck where he'd kissed her. This was not good. First his hands and now his mouth. She was doomed for certain.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Written for the 2010 dmficexchange on LiveJournal


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